


Detachment

by OccasionalAvenger



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 03:38:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7151534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccasionalAvenger/pseuds/OccasionalAvenger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony helps Steve feel a little less alone in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Detachment

Apparently alien invasions were of some interest to the press. Imagine that. They wanted to know more, so naturally they asked the idiots involved. One problem: Steve had no fucking clue what happened. Oh, he knew the basics—Thor had explained well enough Loki’s murderous revenge plot—but as far as actually comprehending it all? No, he didn’t know where the Chitauri came from. No, he didn’t know if they were coming back. No, he didn’t think Obama was behind the attack.

The reporters figured out that Steve was clueless—and therefore useless—pretty quick, not that that meant they left him alone. No, they grilled him for personal information; and after a few days of this, Steve was realizing it was what they were after all along. Aliens be damned; is Captain America a virgin?

And Steve was realizing—uncomfortably—that the press seemed to know more about him than he did. They pulled up his estimated kill count from the war (god—of all the things he didn’t want to know); his "alleged" relationship with Agent Margaret Carter; his old jobs; the hysteria that followed his “death”. 

He mentioned it in passing one day to Stark, the bizarre sensation of separation from his past self. Stark—who was looking more considerably somber these days—looked at him seriously and said, “Well, you’ve come to the right man for the job.”

Steve hadn’t quite remembered asking for help, but it seemed that Stark was more than willing to give it to him. With a glint of his old enthusiasm, he pulled some strings and took Steve after hours to the Smithsonian in DC to see the Captain America exhibit. 

Walking by stuffed mammals and fossils, Steve could picture himself as a part of the museum. The fossils exhibit, maybe. He’d fit right in.

“Here you are.” Stark’s voice interrupted Steve’s thoughts. 

He looked up to see that they were standing below a huge banner that said “The First Avenger!” beneath a picture of his shield. The exhibit itself was made up of two rooms, each decorated with what seemed—even to Steve—to be an excess of American flags. He began to walk through it, taking his time and reading every caption under the displays. Stark wandered behind him, quiet for once, though he did make a crack about the old uniform (“Even Uncle Sam thinks this is a little much.”) It was a weak joke, but Steve knew the Stark was only trying to diffuse some of the awkwardness that hung between them. He couldn’t bring himself to reply—he was lost in the past. 

Every picture stirred some a memory. There wasn’t much dedicated to Steve before the serum, but the few contributions made him smile. There was a class photo of him and his peers when they were in the fourth grade—Bucky was a row behind him and a bit to the left, grinning his head off. 

Most of the exhibit, however, was dedicated to Steve’s transformation after the serum and his role in the war. He looked over it all, though he wasn’t keen to re-live his war days; they had been bad enough the first time around. 

Finally, he reached the back room. There was one small display in the corner that caught his eye. A picture of a young man with a scruffy, dirtied face, and vacant eyes was etched into a slab of glass beside a short biography. Steve stared into Bucky’s face, frozen. He knew exactly when this picture had been taken: after he had marched Bucky and the other POW’s into camp following their rescue. Bucky had spent much of his time in the hands of Hydra being tortured and subjected to Zola’s experiments. He wore that blank look when he thought Steve wasn’t looking until the day he died.

“That your guy?” Stark was beside him.

“Yeah,” Steve said. His guy. His friend. His brother. 

“How’d he go out?” Stark asked quietly. 

Steve glanced at the caption beside the picture and saw that it only stated that Bucky died in action, not how. He swallowed. “He fell. It was my fault.”

“I bet,” Stark said easily. “You going to mope about it?”

Steve shot him a quick look, but the Stark looked serious. He pressed down the prick of anger he felt at the apathy in the reply. It wasn’t fair to expect Stark to feel sorrow over the old death of a man he’d never known. He said nothing, just stared at his best friend’s face, feeling more alone than he’d ever felt in his life. 

“It’s tempting to try living in the past,” Stark said abruptly, unexpectedly. “It’s safe. Familiar. But it’s also where fossils come from. All that baggage you’re lugging around? You put it down and you’re gonna feel a lot lighter, believe me.” He caught Steve’s eye and looked at him with an air of wanting, no, needing him to listen to what he was saying. It occurred to Steve that Stark maybe didn’t follow his own advice. 

He nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat. Stark clapped him on the shoulder.  
“C’mon, Old Man Jenkins. I promise there’s better stuff in the 21st century than this. Have you tried mumbo sauce yet? Great on chicken wings. A DC staple.” He turned and started to leave. Steve took one last look at the picture of Bucky and followed him out. 

 

DC was quiet at night; the government workers gone home, and the tourists turned in for the evening. It so unlike New York City, which always seemed to come alive when the sun went down. Still, it wasn’t bad. Not a real city, no, but not the worst place to live. Stark was already half way down the block, briskly walking towards the dingy parking garage where they’d left his sleek red Ferrari. Steve followed him after a moment, smiling at the urgency with which the other man was walking. 

“It’s only a car,” he panted when he caught up to him. "Don't you have about twenty of them?"

Stark didn’t break stride. “She gets lonely.”

Steve shook his head, laughing. The wave of isolation he’d felt earlier had receded. It was possible, he thought, trotting to keep up with Tony’s pace, that he wasn’t completely alone anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Hell yeah I stole that fossils quote from Man Out of Time. Awesome book, by the way, would recommend.


End file.
